Nibbles of Thedas - The iPod Shuffle Challenge (February 2014)
by Graymalkyn
Summary: Challenge from the Dragon Age Fanfiction Writers group. These are ten brief stories set in the world of Thedas. The challenge consists of setting our iPods on shuffle mode and making a list of the first 10 songs that come up so as to write a short story ( 1,000 words) for each of those. Assorted characters, mostly canon. This is my first attempt, yay!
1. Puttin' On The Ritz (Brosca)

**The iPod Shuffle Challenge - Nibbles of Thedas**

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**Song: ****_Puttin' on the Ritz_**** (Gene Wilder's version) ****(449 words)**

_"Dressed up like a million-dollar trouper; tryin' mighty hard to look like Gary Cooper..." "Super duper!"_

"My good fellow," Zevran started in a diplomatic tone. "I will be honest with you: the lady Aeducan walked away from you because you smell like a dog." Barkspawn raised his enormous head and whiffed in contempt. "Sorry, darling, my mistake: worse than a dog."

Faren Brosca looked at the dapper rogue with his big brown eyes. "I don't think I smell of something in particular." He sniffed his shirt, which was grubby and holey. "Do you?" he asked Alistair, who was sitting next to him. Alistair waved his hand and moved aside, thanking the Maker for not being the worst of them in matters of hygiene.

_"Querido..."_ Zevran sighed, looking at his reflection on one of his blades. "If there is one thing that any female appreciates is cleanliness. Trust me, I _know_ about that." He chuckled. "Of course, I understand that it gets difficult when we're constantly sleeping in burrows and getting splattered with the blood of countless evildoers and abominations, but believe me when I tell you that no woman likes dirt behind a man's ears or under his fingernails. And you look like you can grow a crop of potatoes over there."

Faren rubbed the back part of his ears and when he saw what had come off, he hid his hands conspicuously. "So... I should just wash myself?"

"And soap up and rinse and scrub and repeat," Zevran smiled. "Let me help."

"I... wouldn't let him so close if I were you," Alistair murmured in the dwarf's ear.

"Nonsense," Zevran dismissed him with a chuckle. "You know I only have eyes for you, my dear Alistair." The Warden blushed up to the line of his well-combed hair and muttered an excuse before rushing out of the room. The elf laughed. "I'll tell you what, my jolly dwarf: we'll ask Wynne for that wonderful soap that Sandal got for her, and in less than a day, you'll be so squeaky clean that even those brands will be gone!"

"Can you do that?" There they were again, Faren's puppy dog eyes. It occurred to Zevran that perhaps dwarves were more concerned about the differences that those marks made for them than any other thing. What a silly thing; as if anybody had the right to make men be cattle, branding them like that.

"Nobody can, my friend," Zevran spoke softly, resting a hand on the dwarf's shoulder. "But you should wear those with pride. In other lands, only important people have them. Come, let's bathe you and dress you up, and you'll soon see how the lady Aeducan has eyes only for you."

Faren nodded and beamed as he followed the elf merrily down the corridor.

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**A/N:** _The quote at the beginning of each story is the line that got me thinking of the short stories. Sometimes they don't match the mood of the song -_Two Princes _and_ A Kind of Magic,_ I'm looking at you- but both matter, right? Music and lyrics, I mean. :)_

So this is my headcanon Brosca, Faren. He's a sweet, sweet man, and a bit on the simple side. 


	2. A Kind of Magic (Amell)

**Song: A kind of magic (Queen) (518 words)**

_"This flame that burns inside of me... I'm hearing secret harmonies..."_

"Promise nobody will ever know about that?" she asked sweetly, her eyes twinkling with the promise of happiness. He shook his head almost frantically, in a _'never-ever'_ sort of way.

He loved Solona with all his heart. She had always made the best music. Torrian would never know how she did it, but the leaves of the autumn elder trees seemed to sing along with her, humming a familiar tune that made him think of fairies and a secret world – something that was theirs and theirs alone.

The Circle didn't seem so frightening to him anymore because of her. She was eleven years older, and they had not met before he had been sent to Kinloch Hold, but as soon as they had set eyes on each other, they had known that they were brother and sister. They had the same sparkling blue eyes, and even though his hair was raven black and hers was fairer than the sunlight, they just knew. Many a night she had snuck into the apprentices' quarters to hold him while he was sleeping, and he had gotten so accustomed to her scent and warmth that he was painfully aware of the exact moment in which she had stopped doing it.

He had found her talking to a Templar in hushed tones – several times, in fact. He had noticed the soft blush that covered her cheeks whenever he was around, doing his rounds as all the others. When Torrian finally mustered his courage to ask her about the man, she made him promise that he would not tell anybody about it. How could he? He knew that it might mean trouble for her.

And it did. Her body had started to change rapidly – she had tried to hide it, but when the baby came, the matter could no longer be kept a secret. The baby was taken away, and his sister's health and spirit started decaying in life, consumed by the forbidden flame of desire. The Templar was sent away as well, and after that, Solona just refused to see anyone.

The morning in which everything happened, she had been forced to get back on her feet and work with her new apprentices. There was a new boy with bright red hair; the colour of her baby's hair, and that of the father's. She lost all control over her magic, and the Templars got to her before she could harm anybody else. Decisions were taken. They had to be.

A couple of years after she had been made Tranquil, Torrian was on his way to his sister's workstation at the Hold's greenhouse, when he heard the music of the leaves again. He looked for the source of it, hoping to see his sister, but knowing in his heart that it would not be so. He found his friend Gwyn instead, his fingers moving swiftly, creating the harmonies that Torrian had known a long time ago – the ones that he had thought to be lost forever. Gwyn's green eyes turned to him, a loving twinkle in them, and Torrian could not help but smile.

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_A/N: My headcanon Amell, Torrian, and his sister Solona, whose story is also told in the first part of Last of The Couslands. Lovely Gwyn Cousland makes a cameo towards the end. (I love that guy.)_


	3. It's Oh So Quiet (Nathaniel H)

**Song: It's oh so quiet (Björk) (420 words)**

_"You shout and you yell - Hi ho ho! You broke the spell. Gee, this is swell! You almost have a fit – this guy is 'gorge' and I got hit; there's no mistake: this is It."_

"Maker's balls, stop doing that!" Nathaniel's eyes looked darker in the poor light of the corridors of Kal'Hirol. _Dark and furious,_ Selene thought. And just because she had almost burned his behind during the last Darkspawn ambush. They were already on their way back to the Keep.

"I'd stop if you moved out of the way faster and were more of a warrior," she hissed.

"You've already got a crazy dwarf wielding a massive warhammer and a possessed Warden that can't die any further!" Nathaniel shouted. "No offense meant," he added, when he noticed Justice staring at him. The warrior nodded curtly and continued walking. "_You– _What a Commander you are! You know shit about strategy! They're the ones who should be opening the way! I'm just here to watch your backs!"

"Little Blighter, we're all here to do that," Oghren sneered, earning one of Selene's famous staff beatings. Nathaniel went on ranting while the dwarf bellowed. "Oi! Stop that, you lyrium-swigger!" Justice let out a discreet sighed and pressed on.

"Shut up, both of you!" Selene raised her hand and they all went silent. _That soft noise..._ She pushed Sigrun out of the way and whispered, _"Ees'skärvah."_ A white haze emerged from her palm, and Nathaniel knew what would happen next: a shard of ice pierced through the eye of one of the Shrieks that had been about to attack them.

"Positions, now!" Nathaniel shouted, as he readied his bow. Through the corner of the eye he saw Oghren's sturdy short legs stand apart, eager to let the Darkspawn get a taste of his trusty weapon. Justice took charge of the injured Sigrun, and he...

He found himself watching Selene's back. Her hands moved swiftly and so did her staff, but she was not almighty. Nathaniel shot down three Genlocks and staggered a Shriek backwards. Without looking, he took another arrow, which hit an Emissary and got rid of it with a loud boom. Nathaniel was startled. _What kind of arrow–?_

And then he remembered. That very morning, he had caught her fidgeting with something in his room. The minx had enchanted his arrows. He had failed to see what she had done because his eyes could not bother to be torn apart from the curves of her naked back, and his fingers started itching for her soft, creamy skin, craving her one more time. He gazed at her. Amidst the blows and spells, she was grinning.

Her smile was certainly contagious, and Maker, how he loved her.

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_A/N: I'd never shipped Nathaniel with an Amell, mostly because my warden usually romance Alistair and I feel like it's cheating on him :-/ But I think these two work well._


	4. Two Princes (Gamlen)

**Song: Two Princes (Spin Doctors) (964 words)**

_"You marry him, your father will condone you; how 'bout that now? You marry me, your father will disown you - he'll eat his hat, now."_

Guillaume de Launcet was a good man. He had honest amber eyes that looked a bit too shy when they landed on his sister. Perhaps his sister was right and all those fancy clothes were intimidating for the poor chap. But Leandra had to do it, simply because her father had asked her to.

Gamlen had been charged with escorting his sister to the gala at the Viscount's, and so brother and sister got ready for another boring night, in which the same old enchanters would be paraded in front of the leader's guests, forced to display their powers in ways that were almost humiliating. Leandra's hand pressed her brother's arm nervously and he patted her delicate fingers reassuringly as they entered the Grand Salon.

There was a new mage performing that night, a Junior Enchanter. He looked nervous but he got the job done, even getting a round of applause from the Templars that were watching over the group. When Gamlen turned to Leandra to make a comment on the butterflies that the wizard had summoned, he could see what was going through her mind. She was fascinated by him. Gamlen turned around nervously, hoping that his father or the Comte would not notice, but they were as enthralled by the act as his sister was.

When it was over, he could feel Leandra's excitement growing quietly. She asked him to walk by the mages casually, surely hoping to get another glance from the fellow that had fascinated her. Gamlen agreed nervously. It was hard to reject Leandra's petitions. She had a way with people that he lacked. Perhaps that was why their father was placing his bet on her to make a good marriage, instead of trusting that his male heir could do that as well.

As they walked by, they could overhear the young mage talking to his peers. His voice was rich and deep, but there was something else there. Anger. Contained, but it was still there. For a moment, Gamlen hesitated, glancing at his sister and tugging at her arm discreetly – it was not appropriate to be there, eavesdropping. But she seemed to be paying attention, possibly for the first time in her life, Gamlen thought. The voice stopped and the soft rustle of robes told him that they had been discovered. The thought of confronting a mage, even under Templar supervision, made Gamlen tense.

But the man simply smiled at them – no, not _them._ He smiled at_ Leandra._ He had seen her while he was performing. He had wanted to send one of the colourful butterflies in her direction, but he had felt that it would cause more harm than good. Gamlen saw the unthinkable: his usually eloquent sister was rendered speechless. He saw her blush and lower her eyelids for a brief moment, but when she looked up, her eyes were serious. She confessed to the mage that she had heard what he had told his companions about the dignity of mages, and she admitted that she had never thought about it until that night. Gamlen heard her apologize for the way they were treated, and he saw the man's smile slowly disappear.

Gamlen was no idiot, and he knew right away that something was about to change. So did the other mages, who started pacing about the room silently. For a brief moment he wondered what they were doing, but he understood when he felt his sister's hand slipping from his arm, and he saw her walk away to the balcony with the enchanter.

He also left the room, going back to the Salon, where his father and the Comte were asking after Leandra. He told them that she was indisposed and that she was being assisted by some ladies, and he saw his father breathe out in relief before turning to the Comte once more, leaving Gamlen behind.

Over the next few weeks, Leandra seemed to leave the house at odd times, and Gamlen found himself covering for her during late lunch and dinner appearances –_that boy's always late and poor Leandra has to go out searching for him; he surely got her into trouble again with the de Launcets with the reputation he's been building up_– more and more often.

Years later, when he looked back at that night and what followed, he wondered if he had ever done anything for his sister, or if he had always known what was going to happen when they found out what she had been up to. He half expected her to go through with the engagement and the marriage, and possibly keep the mage as a lover. But he had not anticipated a baby. That was a game changer. The servants' talk, their father's palpable disappointment, and their mother's scorn – nothing seemed to matter to Leandra. She walked out of the estate and their lives without looking back, taking with her all hopes of saving face with the rest of the prominent families.

Gamlen felt his sister's departure as a curse on the family. First her elopement, then their cousin's criminal charges, forcing his father to spend great part of his fortune trying to undo what could not be undone; that which would never be undone. And then, the cholera...

He entered his shack for the first time –taking nothing with him, just like his sister– and shuddered. The air was cold and hostile. He struggled to light a fire; something to keep him warm, something to remind him that he was still alive. A bitter _ha-ha_ escaped from his mouth when he thought how easy it would be for him to do so if he was a mage instead. He knelt on the dusty floor, broken and weary, and hid his face in his hands.

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_A/N: I started writing this more from Leandra's POV, and along the way, Gamlen just took over. I've got a soft spot for him, even though he's not the nicest guy around, but except for Fergus, siblings don't seem to be super duper nice._


	5. Someone Like You (Aeducan)

**Song: Someone like you (Adele) (419 words)**

_"I heard that you're settled down, that you found a girl and you're married now..."_

Valka remembered the first time that she had seen a snowflake. It had been at Soldier's Peak, right after they had finished with that dreadful business that the previous Wardens had left for them. She had gone out of the outpost for a breath of fresh air_ –how funny that she really wanted that air now, when she had first hated it–_ and was surprised by something so small, so light, that she thought its existence almost impossible. Alistair had found her like that: her chestnut hair sprinkled with snowflakes, her plump hands extended, palms up, trying to figure out what was happening.

He had stood in front of her and looked up, his mouth open, his tongue out. Valka had seen a tiny snowflake land on his tongue and instantly melt. He had given her a cheeky smile and a wink and she had found herself grinning back. Still, she had not liked the idea of snowflakes disappearing so soon. She had asked Wynne if there was a way to avoid that, but the mage had shaken her head and told her that the best she could do was to enjoy them while they happened; every snowflake was unique, precious and ephemeral, but with a beauty that had no equal.

And so, as Gorim continued speaking in a painfully contrite tone, as he told her of his wife and their little bairn and his new life among their surface brethren, her mind drifted back to the snowflakes.

He had moved on.

Somehow, at some point in time, he had left Orzammar behind. Her brothers, the betrayal – it was all in the past now.

And so were they.

Every moment with him, what they had once had –not only the words of love, but the days of glory and companionship– had been unique. Precious.

Ephemeral.

Her lips presented him with a noble smile, rare and discreet. She wished him good luck, but when he reached out to touch her, she withdrew her hand and waved it naturally and delicately, like a true Aeducan woman. She turned around and walked back to the Estate. The air was getting cold in the market, and she wrapped herself in the cloak that Leliana had adapted for her. She looked up and saw the evening sky covering Denerim with a metallic brown shade.

They would probably have snow that night.

Valka smiled, thankful for the snowflakes that she had once caught, and for the new ones that she would surely find one day.

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_A/N: Valka is not my headcanon Aeducan, but I needed one who would act this way with Gorim. Sereda... She gets a bit mad at Gorim. But I thought that Valka served the purpose wonderfully._


	6. Digging My Potato (Virgil)

**Song: Digging my potato – Instrumental (Seatbelts/NY Musicians) (409 words)**

The summers in Highever were long. For him, they usually meant more work, since there was more daylight and the weather was generally clement. Working made his body tired. He wasn't old, no – just twenty-eight years of age. His body was strong, muscular, and everybody admired the shine of his hair. At least, when he deigned to let them wash it, for if there was something that he disliked, that was bathing water – water and _soap._

Those two were natural enemies of his.

He could not understand why Nerissa seemed to enjoy those two so much. She always smelled nice. He accompanied her to the beach almost every day –sometimes she insisted on going even if it was raining– and he watched her from the shore. She asked him to run along the coast with her, and he was happy to do so.

So long as that treacherous water stayed well away from him.

That particular afternoon was going by very slowly. He napped in the shade after lunch, and the air was quiet, except for the occasional fly. He yawned. Mmm... Peaceful. He liked it that way. Silent...

He opened one eye. _Too_ silent.

He raised his head. That could only mean one thing.

"WAAAAH!" Fergus ran towards him, brandishing a wet cloth and a soap. Virgil quickly got on his feet and ran in the opposite direction, towards the chapel. They would not _dare–_

He stopped just in time to dodge a bucketful of cold water. He barked loudly.

"Who are you barking at?" Bryce boomed, faking severity. Virgil lowered his head and whimpered. "Now come here and let us give you a bath, you stinking mutt!"

Virgil _woofed_ softly, reminding Bryce that even though he was the Master's father, he was not _his _master. He looked ahead and saw the door to the library had been left ajar. He dashed towards it. That was the only place where water was definitely not allowed. At least he could stay there until–

_SPLASH!_

The tepid water hit him right in the face, taking him by surprise. Nerissa came out of the library, balancing the now empty bucket merrily and flashing a soapy brush. Virgil whimpered.

_Not the soapy brush,_ he thought, as he lay on the floor and covered his eyes with his giant paws, resignedly accepting the tortuous washing process.

But only for the Master, he thought, as he felt Nerissa's fingers scratching him behind the ear.

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_A/N: Virgil is, as you must have realized, my headcanon mabari. Nerissa is my main warden, and her twin brother's name is Gwyn, who was featured in the story called "A Kind of Magic". Virgil hates water as much as cats do. Water and genlocks. _


	7. Miss Clare Remembers (Anora)

**Song: Miss Clare Remembers – Instrumental (Enya) (520 words)**

She bid her handmaiden good night, in spite of the elven woman's protests that she should not spend the night on her own. She wondered when she had started allowing such familiarity, such complicity between them. Her father had never approved of Erlina, but in the uncertainty that always seemed to surround them, Anora found that the Orlesian woman had turned out to be more loyal to her than any Fereldan.

She closed the heavy door behind her, leaving guards, servants, and noblemen behind. How they wearied her with their condolences; they would not let her forget Cailan's death, but they would not let her mourn him in her own time either. Her father had told her to be strong for the people of Ferelden. Teagan had admonished her publicly for appearing too strong. What did they want from her? Did they seriously expect her to please everybody? As if she had ever done that.

As if that could even be done.

She let her long hair cascade down her back. Heavy and lustrous, just like her mother's. She brushed it with her fingers, the way Cailan had done it the first night they had spent together, when he was eager to bed her – when she was still willing to let him do so. And then, what had happened between them? Was it only a matter of time till he ran out of passion and heat? It had not been that, no. She knew about the others. Perhaps it had been precisely that: knowing that there were others paralyzed her when it came to intercourse, and a time came when he only sought her out because Eamon pressed him for an heir.

But she was no mere womb. She was a Mac Tir woman. She had been raised with a purpose in mind. All the lessons, all the scabs after hours of practice, all the memory games that she had played with her father –_Who controls the Bannorn? What rivers flow into the Waking Sea?_–; all of that served a purpose. It had always been intended that way. Maric had understood it. Her father had sold her that way. Then what had Cailan expected from her?

Perhaps it was not her body at all. He had not fathered any bastards, not as far as she knew. And she would have known. Her father would have known; coming from Maric's son, he would have expected it for sure. He had told her once that, should he find out that Cailan had a bastard, he would not act the same way he had with Maric's bastard. And what had she replied? Something along the lines of keeping the child and raising it as her own, perhaps even tricking people into believing that it was hers. She knew the people of Ferelden. They would believe in that which gave them hope. She smiled. She wished she could believe as well. But now…

She looked at her reflection in the mirror one last time before snuffing out the candle, hoping to extinguish silly dreams and hopes that she had once had as well.

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_A/N: This is actually the first time I've written about Anora. I have mentioned her before, but only from Cailan's POV. She is a difficult character, and everything about her feels sketchy. Kudos to her VA for making her sound unsympathetic, if that was what they were going for._


	8. Killer Queen (Leliana)

**Song: Killer Queen (Queen) (446 words)**

_"To avoid complications she never kept the same address; in conversation, she spoke just like a baroness..."_

"My dear Comte," Leliana smiled cherubically as she tickled the man's bare chest with a feather. "You truly _are_ a naughty thing! Having this rendezvous at your brother-in-law's secret place, fetching these succulent berries from Starkhaven, and getting me this beautiful necklace..."

She took a look at the jewel – a sparkling sapphire hanging from an exquisite gold chain. There was a thin grey hair entangled in one of the links – probably from the Comtesse, but what did she care? She slipped the necklace back in its pouch and left it on the secrétaire. "Oh, it's all so gorgeous, darling!" She giggled excitedly and sat on the bed beside him. Her lips moved expertly over the soft skin of his neck, and her teeth teased his earlobe. The man moaned under the gag.

"What's that you say, _mon cher_? Is it time already?" Leliana sprang from the bed and approached the door, feeling movement outside. "You are absolutely right, darling." She pulled the hood back on, took the pouch and pinned it to her belt, and blew a kiss at the tied-up man, who was now wriggling frantically.

Leliana slipped out to the balcony and swiftly clung to a branch of an oak that she had marked days before with that purpose. She climbed down the tree and prowled out of the grounds. Every now and then she looked over her shoulder, though she did not need to do so – she relied on her ears more than anything. And her hearing was now telling her that nobody had come after her.

She unrolled the long-sleeved tunic that she always carried around, put it on, and entered the tavern. She walked inconspicuously towards the room at the back and closed the door behind it.

"Did you bring it?" the Vicomte asked.

Leliana smiled and placed the pouch on the table. The man took out the sapphire and gazed at it in the candlelight. "I can fetch a handsome price for this, yes. Or I can simply show it to the Comtesse and stir a bit of trouble. Nevertheless, good job." He made a signal and a man behind him gave him a parchment. "As we arranged, the information on that ship you requested." He detached the jewel from the chain and threw this to her. She caught it swiftly and raised her eyebrows. "For your pains," the man smiled. Leliana bowed and left the room.

On her way back home, she stopped at the Chantry, walked to the donation box, and slipped the chain inside. Heavy gold ornaments were not really her thing anyway, she thought, as her fingers found the simple silver medallion hidden underneath her clothes.

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_A/N: Again, first time I write a story that involves Leliana. I think I used to like her until "something" happened -a.k.a. "Leliana's Song" and the cameo at the end of DA II- and all of a sudden, I was put off by her._


	9. Tomorrow Never Dies (Morrigan)

**Song: Tomorrow Never Dies (Sheryl Crow) (970 words)**

_"But you bet your life every night while you're chasing the morning light – you're not the only spy out there..."_

No. There had to be a limit.

She had agreed to let _her_ join the group because she really had no saying at that point – though if it had been for her, she would have left the silly, giggly redhead behind. She was no general, and her strategy was always "survival first", but she felt that the fact that the bard was a good archer did not mean that Bryan had to take_ her_ along everywhere, whereas she, a Witch of the Wilds that had tested her mettle against abominations and demons, had to stay in camp, avoiding the lecherous elf, the mistrustful golem, and the enchanting simpleton. She was just as good as anybody when it came to ranged attacks; why couldn't she go, instead of _her? _

She had seen Alistair's cruel pleasure when he had suggested that Bryan should take Leliana with him to test the political waters of Denerim instead of her, simply because she was not a people person, and a normal-looking couple would be less suspicious than a group, especially one with what he had called "an unkempt witch". She scoffed. She was supposedly more eye-catching than a drunken, booze-reeking, trouble-making dwarf? Leliana had giggled. _Exotic_, the two-faced, Orlesian-speaking idiot had called her. _"Oh, Morrigan, it's true! You possess such exotic beauty! All the men will have their eyes on our little party if you're around!"_

But making her worried sick for him while he was gallivanting with _her_ – that was the limit. There was a moment in which lines had to be drawn, and Morrigan decided that that was one of such moments. Four days had passed and they had not returned. That night, she decided to use her old magic and go back to her canine, shapeshifting ways. They would not recognize her – they had never seen her like that, and she _could_ be stealthy when she wanted; after all, she had lived in the Korcari Wilds all her life. The only problem would be his stubborn mabari; if he picked up her scent, then things could get complicated. As she conjured the spell, she thought of him, cursing him for making her act like that; regretting the smiles that he had given her, the times that she had caught him gazing at her so intensely that it made her body shiver with fear and desire.

_"I'll bring you a present,"_ he had promised, embracing her from behind, warming her cold hands with his. _"I might have something to give you in return if you do," _she had replied, showing him her most precious possession.

Morrigan ran across the forest that separated the road from their camp – far enough not to attract any guards' attention and at the same time close enough to be there in a few hours. But she hadn't run for long when she found them.

She was not prepared for the scene in front of her eyes. An exhausted Alistair was digging a large hole in the ground, using a piece of hard bark, and the Sten was helping him, his badly-injured face reflecting a mixture of rage and sadness that Morrigan had never seen in him. Leliana was grinding something against a rock, and her gesture was so desperate that it made Morrigan's heart race in panic. She looked around and found him; barely breathing, shivering and broken, a cold sweat covering his face. He mumbled something and Leliana let out a sob. In the distance, the body of his mabari lay cold, waiting for his grave, and then she understood that something had gone horribly wrong.

Alistair screamed when the bark he had been using broke in half, injuring his sword hand with countless splinters. Leliana cast a quick look at Bryan and ran to aid Alistair. Morrigan took the chance to get close to where her warden was lying. Being near him at that moment was like being in a cloud of entropic energy – she could feel his life force ebbing away, tugging at her heartstrings; something that only he had ever managed to do.

She approached Bryan silently. He shuddered and a weak groan escaped from his lips. She remained immobile, looking at his bare hand – so tender and firm at the same time, the kind of hands that she loved to observe when he was not paying attention and that she loved to feel on her when he was. Too late she realized that he was looking at her.

She saw him give her a broken smile, and from his chapped lips two words came out.

"My witch..."

Morrigan lost control of herself, and her spell vanished. Her long, black hair fell loosely over her shoulders as she scrambled to hold him in her arms. His scent was almost gone, and she knew it – she knew it. It would not be long.

"No... Do you hear me? No! You will be fine," she murmured. "You cannot leave me! You can't..."

He looked at her with those blue eyes that spoke volumes. He did not want to leave. His fingers found her waist and pressed it with the little strength he had left. She was aware that the others had seen her, that they were standing nearby. She did not care anymore. Her lips found his and she kissed him until she no longer felt his breathing.

"Morrigan..." Alistair murmured, his voice strangled with emotion.

But she just kept holding his body in her arms, unwilling to let go. When she finally raised her eyes, he saw the black grimoire that he had found for her in the Circle. The ring that she had thought of giving him –what she loved the most– looked plain and obscure in her finger, and her hands looked empty, and she knew that they would never feel warm again.

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_A/N: Just like Anora and Leliana, this is also the first time I write from Morrigan's perspective. This is after the events of Broken Circle - Wynne has not been helped by a spirit, and Alistair is the ultimate warden. _


	10. Bizarre Love Triangle (FenxHawkexAnders)

**Song: Bizarre Love Triangle (version by Stabbing Westward) (783 words)**

_"There's no sense in telling me; the wisdom of a fool won't set you free." "That's the way that it goes – it's what nobody knows." "And every day my confusion grows."_

"They say that giving a mage such a fine brandy is a waste," the elf grunted. "Or is it only wasted on abominations? I can never remember..."

"Really? And how do you know about drinks so much? I bet you lapped what was left in the glasses of your master," Anders quipped. He looked abnormally distressed, but paranoid as usual.

"No, I used to drown kittens in fine spirits," Fenris replied, silencing the mage, who left his glass on the table and walked away quietly. "Where's Hawke?" he asked Varric after a while.

"I'm not her nanny, why don't you ask someone else?" the dwarf replied, somewhat annoyed. He was trying to focus on Isabela's cards and he could have sworn that she had hidden a King of Diamonds in her cleavage.

"Isabela, where's Hawke?"

Isabela looked down between her legs. "She's certainly not here," she pouted. "But if you find her, tell her to come and see me tonight," she purred. Fenris rolled his eyes. He really needed to see her. After the argument they had had about Hadriana and the way he had stormed out of her house... He had been a fool. She had even reached out to him once more, bringing him a book that she thought he would find interesting, and he had barked and driven her away. He wanted to apologize, but... It was all her fault. She was always consorting with mages and protecting apostates, and they just did not see eye to eye when it came to that, and then, then she would show up and ask how he was doing, bring him meals, and give him books. And he did not know how to feel about her.

Why did she have to be so confusing?

He left the tavern and wandered around Lowtown. Perhaps she had gone to see her uncle? No; who would? He looked around and sighed. He had promised himself that he would never go there, but these were extraordinary circumstances.

"Merrill," he grumbled when she opened the door. _Venhedis;_ she smelled like the magisters.

"She's not here," she replied nonchalantly, and she shut the door in his face. He tried to contain his anger and turned around to leave when he heard the door opening again. "Try the clinic," she said, and he could have sworn that she had smirked.

But why would Hawke be at the clinic? Anders was at the tavern... No, he had left. Fenris frowned and strode across the alienage to the steps that led to Darktown.

The lantern was lit, which meant that Anders had to be in. As he got closer to the door, Fenris heard their voices. Some of the words were lost, but from where he was, he could hear enough.

"Maker, if it hadn't been for you...! I needed to leave, I couldn't stay there!"

"But I had no idea where you'd go...! I was concerned, Anders!"

Fenris blinked. He could have sworn that he had heard the same words the night that he had showed up in her estate. _What..._ What was Hawke playing at? He realized that they were talking about something else now, and decided to eavesdrop some more.

"–rejected the idea! Then this means... Perhaps there's still some hope..."

"I'm sure there is," she said. "And I will help you through it..."

"I don't know what to say," Anders replied. "I know you will, but I'm not sure if I want you to do it. This could be a disaster... I don't want you to be more involved–"

"But I already am. Anders, we are friends. That's what friends do; they stick together in hard times, regardless of personal opinions or... There's not much I can do for you or for Justice, but perhaps–" and then she went silent.

Fenris peered into the clinic and saw the mage's arms around her, their lips locked in a kiss that filled him with envy and shame. _That_ was what he should have done that night when he had come to her, or when she had come to him. He should _not_ have remained silent.

"Anders, I..." she hesitated. Fenris's heart skipped a beat. "I don't know..."

"If you're willing, perhaps we could... I know this may come as a surprise to you but... I can't live without it. Don't say anything now. If your door is open tonight, I will come to you..."

Fenris smirked. _'Tonight'_, he had said. That meant that he still had a chance – there was still hope for him. He only had to beat the mage to her door. He walked away, letting the shadows of Darktown shelter him from their eyes.

.

* * *

_A/N: This title was kind of a given. I think the love triangles usually go Alistair-Cousland-Nathaniel, or Anders-Hawke-Fenris. Oddly enough, these are not my HC DA II characters. Not even Merrill, but I kinda like the way she came out here. It's eerie to see how similar the romances with Fenris and Anders are: guy has a crisis quest, guy gets the job done, guy runs away, there's this conversation of "Oh, where have you been?" and then romance. Possibly the only difference is that Fenris will kill Hadriana regardless of your opinion -like someone else later on will blow up the Chantry no matter what you say *cough*- and that Fenris can say "You will be the death of me" whereas Anders says he "can't live without it." _

_And that's the end of the challenge, woo!_


End file.
